Epic Fantacea Chapter 4: Following

Some moments in time--especially the horrifying ones--tend to remain with us, haunting us, for the rest of our days. A moment in time of this particular kind, was haunting Noriova, and would continue to do so for a very long time. "I killed her," he thought to himself," a most beautiful woman--and, in my madness, I killed her." He shook his head in dismay as he ran down the road. Up hills and down and around bends, twists, and turns he went, not quite able to outrun his horror and his guilt. The being that was following him, stopped and examined the now smouldering corpse of something that certaintly was not human. This being, this figure, who was, in fact, a man, bent down and grasped the skull of the corpse with a gloved a hand and turned the skull side to side while he opened the jaw, noting the elongated fangs, as he did so. "Child of the damned," he said to himself, and annointing the forehead with oil, he said a quick prayer for the tormented sould that had at one time inhabited this broken body. "Where are you going, Noriova? Do ye serve the light, or are you yet lost to the dark? I hope that I may not, but if I must I 'ill for certain run ye through if killing you is necessary to save us all." He then stood, this mysterious tracker, glancing over his shoulder at the slowly brightening skyline behind him. He sighed, and without any trace of hurry, he continued to track his quarry. Noriova, at that moment, had become quite stupified. He had run out of road some time back, and had carried on trampsing through thistle and bramble, to find himself staring up the face of what amounted to, in his mind, a ridiculously high cliff wall. "Well, now what?" he exclaimed to the empty air, "what in the darkest reaches of the abyss am I supposed to do?" Seemingly in reply, a raven perched at the top of the cliff cawed down to him, perhaps to mock him, or perhaps to point out the obvious. "Yeah, yeah, everyone's both a jester and a sage," Noriova remarked, while scanning the breadth of the cliff, searching for hand-and foot-holds. He looked first to his left and then to his right, staring longingly in each direction as he gazed, praying against all hope, that there was a way around this monstrosity. No such luck. So, up he went, slowly climbling, stretching, reaching, leaping, nearly falling, catching himself, and repeating this cycle several times over, being cheered or jeered by the raven still far above his head. Nearly two hours later, with the sun beginning to rise behind him, Noriova reached the summit, and collapsed upon it, resting and catching his breath. At the foot of the cliff, calmly smoking his pipe, stood the tracker. "You're almost there, little knight that would be... You're not going to like what you find, I wager, when you return to your army."

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